LPiA-25 Nov. 11

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 11
Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a New Reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for the month of November. (or one, or six, or fifteen) Prompts may be revisited at any time. All members are welcome.

Topic : Write a poem inspired by an old wives' tale 
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[Todd]

Cracks and Mirrors

You step on a crack
and when your mother
doesn’t break
you learn the wrong lesson.

A broken mirror doesn’t feel
like seven years. Luck corrodes over time,
a kind of background radiation
building in the body.

The half-life of probability,
black cat, spilled salt,
breath on dice,
each trace making certainty
only appear random.

[CRNDLSM]

A girl or boy
I dont have to wonder if its 
A girl or boy
Already bought them clothes and toys
You'll be happy with what they get
Gender neutrals defined as fits
A girl or boy 


Feed your fever
Hold on i think I mixed that up
Starve your fever
What was it grandma would leave her
Chicken noodle soup in a cup
Blankets and cuddles with a pup
Fuck this fever

[Mostly Holy]

"Speak of the Devil"

My ears are flame,
A scarlet heat creeps to ear-top.
My ears are flame
as gossip's tongue mouths my name.
No matter how far from me they plot,
My witchly power they can't stop.
My ears are flame.

Cracks and Mirrors

I love your enjambments in this, so beautifully done! You make it seem effortless, but my attempts come off weird or broken ::joy::

[...]

It occurs to me that our rondelets are too short to actually qualify for the challenge, is that why you wrote two? ::joy::

[Keith]

The Old Wife

Tis twa times a fool
that would dispel such tales,
the shriveled shriek
that anger unveils.
No matter how far
the story seems fetched
belief must be worn
beneath a hair vest,
for to challenge the lady,
the hag, the nag,
who's words wear the trousers
of a rutting stag
would only bring anguish
flat failure and pain
so look to the sunset,
build boats in her name.
sit quiet with me,
let your linen unfurl
and sail with me now,
off the edge of this world.

[Mostly Holy]

"A bird indoors means death, of course"

A bird indoors.
You can't ignore its' rhythmic trill.
A bird indoors
casts white shadows on sterile gauze.
IV pole holds feeder's perch still
Ventilator's call a raucous shrill.
A bird indoors.

Decided to do a second one. Two seven line poem-ettes is "eight or more lines", right?

[dukealien]

No, Thank You


Country people in the South
knew that sleeping on bare ground
twice was purely courting death,
three times sure as shooting.

In the whirl of centuries
antithesis has arrived:
it’s called “earthing” to lie down
on cold Gaea’s loamy breast.

Personally, I will side
with the old wives’ tale and quote
jungle natives’ goodnight wish:
“Don’t sleep.  There are snakes.”

[rowens]

Pinecone Fletcher (gnome)

We have it know, at church,
Boss Yall runs fisher out
the Times Creek Sound Road.

Now, with air and a crick
at 7am on thursdays, we don't hit
the buildin wensdays,
the lil man lives out back

'll clean your gardoneen.

And that's how I clean my gnomes:
By talkin nim.
Yeah, I see.

But it wont but a year since you had em.

They beloned my aunt, then.

That's how she tolem.
Had em right out ther in the trees like theyn the woods.
Nev got dirty on the on. She wen on wensdays, too.

[MidaPoems]

The unlucky strangers

A black cat,
Unlucky?

Lucky to have seen,
That which the moon 
Can't appreciate.

I try to approach,
For it hisses me away,
In awe, I decay.

Maybe it was true,
A black cat is unlucky -
Or was it
You?